Pursuits of Four Fools - Persona Worldwide
by elusiveEmperor
Summary: Four fools, and a brand new quest. A realm of shadows exists in the dreamscape, where the inner desires of people fight to take ahold of them. As Sleeping Knights, it is the duty of these four wild-card holders and their companions to defeat said foes, in order to shore up the mental health of their friends. However, sinister secrets lurk in the dreamscape - secrets that can kill.
1. Four Fools - 0

Tenebrosity envelops the world. Not so much as a glimmer of light pierces the veil of the blacked plains, upon which one finds themselves feeling as vacant as the surrounding land. The scintillating texture of a cerulean butterfly serves as the only interruption to this sprawling darkness, its figure appearing alien here as it fluttered forth. The butterfly disappears. The world is blank, silent, waiting and begging for interruption. A voice speaks, providing that disturbance which this reality seemed to wish upon itself.

 _Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. These three elements comprise the fundamentals of basic liberty for a member of humanity. The operative clause in this statement is not life; it is not liberty, nor happiness. Instead, the cardinal word to bear in mind is "pursuit". You see, the word "pursuit" conveys a degree of uncertainty and insincerity. The word pursuit bars one from immediately attaining their aspirations, but at the same time allows the potential for growth that is never provided otherwise. The element of pursuit is integral, for it not only aids humans in realising their true potential, but allows that happiness and merit gained from completion to be unquantifiably more satisfactory. It is an elegant system, allowing for the exchange of enthusiasm into enjoyment, providing a fool the means to conquer the world._

 _Such fools are prevalent across the globe, the untapped potentials of countless masses remaining squandered amidst the flock as fear grips an entire planet. The events to follow are the result of negligence and terror; particularly the latter. The fools to which I refer are those who have yet to embark upon a grand adventure, and within an adventure of such a magnitude, I have no doubt that a surge of such individuals will rise to the task in order to restore to humanity that faint glimmer of hope which has otherwise escaped them._

 _The first of the four, the Fool of Cups, steps forth as a browbeaten yet diligent pupil. Attentive and mild-mannered, this individual finds themselves conflicted between a pursuit of knowledge counterpoised against a fear of the unknown. This pupil is known to favour both reason and adaptable strategy, and is said to be capable of turning the tides of even the gravest of conflicts. They are bound to a land of water, populous with sprawling beaches and laden with seaside attractions. It is a land where enjoyment is bountiful, where one can find themselves quickly overwhelmed by the spectacular beauty and possibility which beckons them. However, idle distractions can serve to halt one's pursuits; one must be wary of the cost incurred by futile leisure._

 _The second of the four, the Fool of Swords, steps forth as a courageous yet vacant pupil. Reticent with an innate resolve, this individual is guided more by the whims of fate than any internal desires or passions spurring them to action, finding themselves in new terrain by arbitrary circumstance rather than anything of their own doing. This pupil is one of unrivalled swiftness, both of body and tongue, with a rapier wit and the sleight of hand to match. With their prowess, they are capable of not only moving mountains, but perhaps even the hearts of their foes. They are bound to inhabit a land of gentle gales, where upon the breeze the words of passersby can prove beneficial to one's own growth, perhaps even lending advice and spurring change forth. However, one should be cautious of action and unwelcomed change; it can serve to be dire with negligent preparation._

 _The third of the four, the Fool of Pentacles, steps forth as a stoic and cold pupil. They appear like an atlantean figure, bearing upon their shoulders the weight of both expectations and aspirations, pursuing glory in an attempt to reach above that which has been granted to them. This pupil is disciplined, and their innate ability to prosper is said to be contagious, rubbing off on peers and helping them in their pursuit of wisdom and worldliness. They are bound to a land of earth, where an eternal pursuit of financial prosperity has sown the seeds of disaster. Great affluence lurks as an looming possibility, but it is a gift only granted to the frugal and discerning, attained through tireless labour and strife._

 _The final of the four, the Fool of Wands, steps forth as an assertive and impulsive pupil. A firebrand tenacity dwells within this pupil, one which has led them to tread a path not commonly considered orthodox, and has found himself a new path in order to avoid the ramifications of his former ways. A certain fear is imposed by this pupil's mere presence, and it is said that their radiant aura is capable of both striking fear into the hearts of foes, and fury into the hearts of friends. They are bound to inhabit a land of fire, where inflammatory instigation has fostered tension and dissent. Should one be cautious, allies will find solace in the arms of a trustworthy individual, but one must take caution to avoid foolhardy and detrimental decisions._

 _Four routes lay ahead, four pursuits to reach that end. The choice it seems is in your hands, let us brave unwitnessed lands._

* * *

The engulfing darkness begins to fade as the voice stops. As the world starts to take some form, the silhouette of a solitary yet somewhat welcoming individual comes into view. In his right hand he holds a talisman, bearing in gold the image of a knapsack and a jester's hat, which he clutches tightly. In his left hand, he bears a flare gun, and upon his face he wears a warm and endearing smile. The remainder of the world enters view. A small stone-brick fence stands before the solitary individual, and he quickly ducks for cover behind it as a spear flies overhead. A call echoes from beyond.

"Hey, little assistance here?" The voice asks.

He nods, brandishing his flare gun. Before him, a shadowy horseback lancer stands imposingly, towering over the rabble beneath it. The shadow appears to have the upper hand, and to the unsuspecting viewer it would seem as if the eight individuals facing off against it would stand little chance; that would not be the case. The shadow attempts to pike one of the individuals surrounding it, yet to no avail. She deft-footedly dodges, striking his horse with a serrated bowie knife across the rear of its hindquarters. The horse whinnies and retaliates with a firm kick to the gut, sending her sprawling across the castle courtyard and knocking the wind out of her. It was time.

"Persona!" The solitary boy calls, as he lobs his talisman into the sky. Upon the cry of those words, the amulet transmogrifies into an almost otherworldly figure, bearing a chalice in one hand and clad in golden plating. Though it appeared humanoid, it was easy to tell from an initial glance that it was anything but, as it bore a tar-black face that was only scarcely visible beneath its helmet. "Mediarama!" He yells, invoking the ethereal abstraction to reinvigorate his party. He raises his flare-gun, aims it with a steady and unwavering hand, and aims directly toward the horse's muzzle.

The horse bucks instinctively as it is startled by the oncoming flare, colliding with its face as it frenzies. The blunt force of the flare did little, but the adverse psychosis resulting from the flamboyant projectile was more desirable. The warrior falls to the ground, his horse fleeing to some other section of the Castle in which they stand. His allies surround the downed lancer, the disgruntled figure appearing tame and somewhat disreputable as he remains at the mercy of the assailing crew. "Orders, Tom?" One of his companions asks. He ambles over; slowly, as to make his opponent uneasy, but just briskly enough to ensure that his temperament does not flare. He stands above the colossal knight sprawled on the ground.

"A rather poor position I'm in, eh?" The warrior says.

"Indeed," the boy replies.

"So, do I get any last rites?" The warrior asks.

"Well, have you committed any soul-rending atrocities as of late?" The boy queries.

"Not particularly," the warrior says. "I would have thought you were the ones committing atrocities and whatnot."

"We're knights ourselves, defenders of the humanity within," the boy replies, "If we commit sin, it is in the name of higher virtue."

"Like standing over a man, with a pistol in his face?" The warrior retorts.

"You are no man," the boy replies. "And this is not a pistol."

"Surely I can barter my way out of this," the warrior inquires. "Is there something you want that I can acquire for you?"

"Knights accept no bribes," the boy replies. "The only method for survival open to you is a pledge of allegiance."

"Allegiance?" The warrior asks.

"Fight alongside us," the boy says.

"I suppose our motives are rather coalescent," the knight says. "We both fight for justice, in some sense of the word."

The knight deliberated for a second, before rising in a blue haze. It was a ritual they had seen countless times before, yet it still managed to scare most of the squad to wit's end. The knight began to float in midair.

"I shall wage war in your name then. I shall spread justice as you see fit, and fight in accordance with your desires, for they are mine as well. Let us work together harmoniously," the knight replies. As it does so, its otherwise gigantic figure begins to compress, contorting into an amulet similar to that which he had thrown into the air earlier. It gravitated towards the boy's arm, and he reached out, clutching it in his outstretched hand. He placed the talisman in his pocket.

"Looks like you've got another one. Damn, you sure got a knack for this," one of the boys accompanying him says.

"It was a team effort," he replies. "We all have a knack for this."

The team strolls onward, toward another section of the castle. Yet, this was not the beginning of their tale; far from it. Corbenic is a sparse land, ulterior to theirs. Thus, their arrival here was an enigma in itself, seemingly brought forth by contrived and otherwise unknown means. The cause of this disturbance was elusive, but they had a purpose here - a noble plight to protect friends and family from the influences that were commonplace in this realm, and slowly seeping into their own. This place gave rise to the shadowy desires left in the murk of unchecked hearts, desires which could create travesties in the conscious realm.

That is the enemy they fought. However, this was not the beginning of their story. This is the pursuit of the Fool of Cups, the first of four sleeping knights braving Corbenic for the sake of humanity.

* * *

 **Note** **:** This is intended to be a small writing project in order to bolster my capabilities. As practice, I have decided that writing a Persona fic will be the most beneficial, due to its reliance on seamless dialogue and the prospect of creating gripping and gritty battles. To start off, any response as to which route should be taken would be great. I'm not expecting a great influx of replies, but I remain somewhat hopeful that this bizarre adventure might garner some limited attention. Also, do feel free to contact me personally at any time: the flow of this story is reliant on the input of its readers. Anyway, thanks for giving me the time-of-day to reach the bottom of the page. I hope that we can prosper together in future, attentive reader.

Yours Truly,

elusiveEmperor


	2. A Coach to New Beginnings - 1

**Monday, 22nd of January  
** **Clear Skies**

Tom awakened to plush cushions and the monotonous drone of the speaker. The regional coach which thundered towards his destination seemed somewhat anticlimactic, allowing for the realisation of his academic prowess yet simultaneously possessing no prowess of its own. It was drab, sordid, and unappealing. Then again, everything in the country was; one of the many reasons he left. He sat languidly, and returned the earbuds tucked within the neckline of his shirt to his ears. They helped drown out the lifeless voice of the PA, but only slightly. He became distracted by the melodious tune of his earbuds, the harrowing chorus of "Hotel California" warranting exclamation as he sang alongside the recording, albeit poorly. There were few passengers to be disturbed by his cacophony, and those who did were already wearing similar noise-repellent devices, so he thought it acceptable. A suitcase sat beneath his seat, carrying all his remaining worldly possessions in an eighty by forty eight centimetre carry-on; it was rather disquieting to know that was all he was left with. On the flip-side however, it saved effort with the travel. He leaned back into his seat, slowly overtaken by fatigue, beckoned into the unconscious world.

* * *

He awoke once more. This time, however, he was not on the train. He sat in a classroom, with windows draped in velvet. Four stylish mahogany school desks faced forward towards a blackboard, before which a hunched elderly man sat at a teacher's desk. The desks seemed reminiscent of an older time, a more spartan construction amalgamated with regal, plush, and more accommodating cushioning. The desk and chair were attached together by wooden struts, perhaps to ensure that students could not lean back, or perhaps for some other purpose entirely. A young woman, older than himself but not by much, stepped into the room. She stood alongside the elderly man. The elderly man had slender fingers and an unwavering grin that appeared somewhat off-putting, but some aura that the man exuded made it impossible for him to be entirely distrusted by the boy.

"Welcome to the Velvet Room," the man said. "I sense that a promising fate awaits you and your comrades, it will be most pleasing to watch you all flourish together. I see the others have yet to arrive. I am sure they shall in time, but for now you are the first to see the inside of these walls. I suppose introductions are in order then?"

Tom stared around at the rest of the room, departing from his chair. The carpet was immaculate, made of the same velvet substance that constructed the window covers, and seemingly devoid of even the slightest inkling of dirt.

"I am Igor, it pleases me to make your acquaintance. I am the schoolmaster here in the Velvet Room. You likely possess many questions. I shall endeavour to answer them in due course," he said.

"Velvet Room?" Tom asked.

"Indeed," Igor replied. "It is a place between conscious and unconscious, where mind and material coalesce. It is a place of refuge for those who have formed a contract, one which I shall present to you now. Call it a 'test', if you will."

Igor glanced over to the young woman by his side. "This is my assistant, Valerie," he said.

"Pleasure to meet you," she added, speaking in a formal and snooty tone that seemed somewhat insincere. She strutted forth toward Tom. "This test is only a formality, I assure you, but I will require you to return to your desk."

Tom sat back down in the ornate mahogany desk.

"Thank you for remaining cooperative," Valerie said. She placed an examination booklet on the centre of the table, facing toward Tom, along with a remarkably sleek ballpoint pen. "Please write your name on the front of the examination booklet. This shall serve as evidence of your commitment to advancement."

He lifted the Biro with his left hand, carefully writing in cursive block letters the name 'Tom Drover' across the dotted line upon the front of the paper.

"You see, education is a journey, a pursuit in and of itself," Igor said. "This is the first step toward enlightenment, but by no means the last. Even the greatest of feats must be accomplished with a minuscule step forward; such a step is what you have just made. Over time, you will gain the experience and understanding to fill out the remainder of the booklet, yet for now the only knowledge you possess on its contents is the ability to sign your own name. It is surely disheartening, but this was never a test to be completed in a single sitting, but an extended journey which shall grant wisdom to you."

Valerie lifted the test booklet from the desk. "An arduous pursuit awaits you, querent of enlightenment," Igor added. "However, it is one of both great significance and prospect, and equally great peril should failure find its way to fruition. Do you accept the consequences of such?"

Tom deliberated for a second, before replying. "Yes, I do," he said. He placed no weight behind these words, as he believed the Velvet Room and all within to be a mere conjuration created by his sleeping mind, despite his heightened awareness and apparent consciousness. However, Igor seemed pleased at the remark. "Excellent. I shall await your return," he replied. "Now, awaken anew, Fool of Cups." The room began to fade, and as it did so, Tom began to lose lucidity. He transitioned.

* * *

He awoke, and once more emerged into the musty coach. The music of his earphones still blasted in his ears. He removed the earbuds for a second, and peered out the window. The world beyond was vast, a city stretching across the horizon with beauteous beaches and towers reaching to the clouds. "Passengers, we are now arriving at Sydney Central," a voice called through the PA. Finally. The boy stood from his chair, pushing the dream of the velvet room to the back of his mind as he grabbed the suitcase from beneath his seat. He headed toward the train doors, bag in tow, and waited for the train to stop.

It was seven in the morning when he arrived at Sydney. Getting up at four was quite the effort, but it was nothing in comparison with the tenacity required to get to this point. He relished it; the excitement of boarding in a new city, away from the humdrum of country life and the carelessness prevailing in the limitless plains of the country. It was a place he did not belong. He departed the train, and stepped onto the platform of Central Station. He wandered onward, sauntering down the squalid concrete platform toward the turnstiles that beckoned a new existence yonder. His destination now was Abanoub College; it was not far now.

He stepped onto a bus, presenting his newly acquired travel card to a ticket-reading device near the front of the bus. "Does this pass by Abanoub College?" He asked the bus driver. He snickered a little.

"Yeah," the driver said. "Head on back."

The driver's words seemed laced with content, and though he did head to the back of the bus as he requested, he could not help but feel uneasy about the whole situation. He lugged the suitcase along the length of the bus, and placed it beneath his chair. He sighed a little to himself as the bus rolled onward, occasionally stopping to pick up more passengers. He would greet each one with a smile and a friendly face, marginally different treatment to that which he had received earlier. It was little wonder though. Abanoub was a prestigious private co-ed school, filled with some of the finest tutors around. Additionally, it was home to the rich and the intelligent, who were capable of either affording tuition, or earning their place amongst them through grit and determination. He did not blame the bus driver, in fairness. Had he not changed significantly over the past few years in order to pursue the place now offered to him, he would have likely detested himself as well. Only the elite entered, and he could not stand such castes and labels: it was the very thing that he sought to escape.

After a lengthy journey, the bus finally arrived at Abanoub: or at least, as close as it would get. The bus stopped around four hundred metres before the school and did a u-turn in the opposite direction, and after he realised this he bolted swiftly towards the buzzer. The driver stopped, but due to the lack of prior warning there was approximately an extra one-hundred metres added to his journey. He supposed it would not change here then, they'd all resent him much the same. He took his suitcase from the bus. The driver smirked at him from afar as the doors closed, and headed off upon his route once again. He accepted that though; he deserved to be hated.

He wandered through the gates to the school at around eight o'clock. He had no doubt that there would be a chaotic flurry of attention hurled his way when he arrived at class, so he decided to procrastinate and put that off for a few minutes until it was absolutely dire. Instead, he headed up to the Principal's office, leaving his suitcase by the door as he knocked upon it. "You may enter," the principal said from beyond the door. He turned the knob and forced open the door. Inside, an immaculate display lined the side of the room, and a man with brown hair and an erudite disposition leaned back in his chair. He was the sort of man on the cusp of old age, not quite reaching the point at which one began to lose the colour in their hair, but the years had certainly begun to create contours and crevices within the skin of his face. He wore an indifferent expression, which seemed to command authority, yet at the same time conveyed a level of mutual respectability which encouraged one to speak their mind honestly and openly. A name-plaque bearing the words "Mr. Percival: Principal" sat at the front of his desk, written in ornate gold and caked in particles of dust.

"Good morning Tom," the principal said in an earnest manner. "I take it that you made it here quite alright."

"Yes, it was fine," Tom replied. He did not elaborate much, and though he wanted to discuss his quarrel the driver, he thought it an inappropriate and unnecessary matter to raise.

"Splendid," the principal said. "In the past, we have had new students getting into all kinds of places upon arrival here. You know, locals giving them wrong directions and whatnot, yet I doubt you were troubled by that. After all, you are a smart boy, and I doubt you would find yourself undone by such a simple matter. At any rate, I would like to now formally welcome you to Abanoub College. I am sure you will find your place here, we have a reputation for producing upstanding individuals."

"What is the reputation of this place really like?" Tom asked inquisitively, out of curiosity.

"Well then, I take it that something did indeed occur on your way here," the principal said. "We have been getting into the news lately, copping a copious amount of flak for a minor debacle insinuated by one of our students. You needn't worry too much about that, but do remember that if you do anything bad, it reflects badly on both the school and on you personally. I doubt you would be that sort of student though. After all, you don't seem like the troublemaking sort. I think we'll get along just nicely."

The Principal rose from his chair, and ambled over to the window behind his desk. He peered out into the world beyond, staring down at the remainder of the campus.

"Come on over," the principal said.

Tom followed him over to the window. From this vantage point, he seemed to have a view of the entire world, and could see the ocean in the distance as well as the school facilities in the foreground. Near the beach was a pair of large marble and stone buildings which seemed residential in nature, far from the campus but not by much. They seemed to drift slightly in the wind despite remaining entirely motionless. Mr. Percival pointed to one of them.

"That's where you will be staying. After school, you will find that the beach there is quite nice. Don't spend too much time fooling around though, and do not even consider going into the building next to yours," the principal said.

"Why not?" Tom queried.

"Because it's the girl's dormitories," the principal replied.

"Oh," Tom said. He did not question further.

"Below, you will find the majority of classrooms," he said. "To your far left, you will find the science and mathematics buildings. Head toward them and turn right and you will find the english faculty..."

He trailed off.

"Actually, perhaps it would be better if you had something to ask your fellow pupils," he said, changing the topic. "After all, you will need to spend the next two years with them, so perhaps I shouldn't take away those scarce icebreakers which you have conveniently stashed away for future usage. I will let you know now that you will be bunking alongside a student by the name of Finn Teague. You might want to meet up with him earlier in the day, as I have no doubt the two of you will get along like peas in a pod. Or at the very least, you'll need to."

Though his last remarks seemed somewhat concerning, he did have some idea that friendship with this individual was a pressing matter not to be taken lightly. After all, he would be spending his next two years with them, so any misgivings between the pair would have plenty of space to air. However, the way with which he exacerbated the nature of the issue seemed perturbing to him, as if there was something amiss about the entire ordeal.

"Well, you should probably head off to your first class," the principal said. "You will be starting in your tutorial class at 8:15. Your class is in SC04, located on the ground floor of the science building, in the fourth room. I understand that you may be slightly behind our curriculum due to differences in educational material, but I doubt it will be an unassailable feat given your stunning track record. I will deal with the transferral of your luggage over to the dormitories."

Tom headed over to the door. As he was about to open it, the headmaster made a parting remark.

"Also, make sure to enjoy your time here," he said. "Time slips by, and when you reach the graduation platform it almost feels as if you were standing here yesterday. Do everything, don't follow in..."

Tom waited for him to continue. He didn't, instead simply standing and staring at him. After a while, Tom left for his first class.


	3. New Friends - 2

**Monday, 22nd of January  
** **Clear Skies**

Tom headed toward the classroom. Though he knew that it would not be the case, it was nonetheless reassuring to him that the classroom was not draped in velvet as it was in his dream. Instead of being greeted by an unsettling elderly man, a young woman sat at the front of the class. She seemed absorbed in a book, what looked to be a lengthy literary work reminiscent somewhat of a tome. She stood up as he entered.

"Ahh, I'm guessing that makes you the elusive Tom then?" She said. He decided to use the opportunity to jeer at her a little.

"No, I'm his substitute," he said in a deadpan tone. He chuckled a little, giving up the jig in little under a second. The joke itself was woeful, but the teacher seemed to appreciate it somewhat. He thought she had likely heard such little humour working in this job that anything had become acceptable to her.

"How does a student even have a substitute?" She said, continuing the joke.

"Hiring one, I suppose," he said. "Work's scarce nowadays."

"Well, if you say so," she said, before turning her attention to the rest of the class. "Students, I would like you to meet our new student. His name is Tom Drover, and he will be staying at the boarding house from this moment forth," she announced to the room. "Please, make him feel welcome."

Tom headed to sit down. He found himself an empty chair next to a student who seemed to wear an ever-present smile on his face, and sat down. He looked at the student. He seemed dishevelled, and though he wore his uniform perfectly with the red tie neatly done up and the shirt tucked into the grey pants, it was clear he had not ironed any part of his uniform at any point. The shirt was tucked in, and the red and yellow blazer was done up, but he looked shabby despite it. He had light red hair, and a stocky build which seemed to hint at athletic prowess; the poster child for a sports buff.

"Sup, you're the new guy?" The student next to him said. "I'm Finn. Seems we're bunking together, huh?"

"Yeah," Tom replied.

"Well, you seem like a swell guy," Finn said. "Where'd you come from?"

"Strathmerton," Tom answered. "It's a country town, I used to go to the local school then?"

"Who are your parents?" Finn inquired.

"Farmers of odds and ends," Tom replied. "It wasn't the life for me."

"So, you just casually enrolled in the Fort Knox of pretentious Select-Entry Schools?" Finn quipped.

"Yeah," Tom said. "I got in here on scholarship. I used to go to the community school in Strathmerton, and under the tutelage of various teachers as well as the support of my parents, I wound up here. Seems surreal in honesty."

"That's bloody awesome!" Finn exclaimed. The teacher cleared her throat and gave Finn a dirty look. As his eyes connected with hers, he silently mouthed the word 'sorry'. It seemed to satisfy her, and she returned to what she was doing, though it surprised Tom that what she was doing had nothing to do with teaching the class. Then again, he supposed that technically school did not start until 8:45. He sat patiently as he awaited that time.

"So, like, can you do my homework then?" Finn asked. "I'm really behind in Geography. I just need a passing grade, so my parents won't kill me."

"How can your parents kill you?" Tom asked back. "You live in the boarding house."

"I suppose you've got a point, but we do get to leave on holidays." Finn said.

"Well, it is optional," Tom replied. He deliberated on it for a moment, before remembering the Principal's words of advice to him. "Well, at least you're upfront about it I suppose," Tom said. "I'll help you with your homework and whatnot. Do keep in mind though that the operative word in that sentence is 'help', I'm not going to just do it for you."

"Thanks man, you're a god-damn lifesaver," Finn said. "Say, why don't we grab a bite to eat after school ends, my treat."

"Can you pay for me?" Tom asked. "I'm sort of broke."

"Don't worry about it, I'm happy to be the money man," Finn replied. "After all, you're doing my homework."

"I'm helping you with it, not doing it," Tom replied.

"Heh, whatever you say," Finn said dismissively. Tom was a little peeved, but then realised that this was the first time he had anybody that he could genuinely consider a friend alongside him. He decided to withhold judgement, for the sake of his own idealism.

* * *

As their classes drew to a close, and the end of the day finally made its way into view, Tom slowly adjusted to the newfound environment. He was far from used to it. The students here were marginally more reserved than those from his hometown, but he saw that as more of a boon than a shortcoming. After all, the less reserved students of his hometown had never taken kindly to the 'boy genius' on their turf, making collaboration between them all the more difficult. However, having Finn around helped. Finn was a savant when it came to socialisation, the sort of kid who seemed to be acquainted with everyone on campus. Though he barely communicated, he felt as if he had become a more prominent face on campus merely through exposure to his radiant and inviting aura. As the school day drew to a close, Finn offered to provide him with his first glimpse into the city.

"So, want to head off then?" Finn asked.

"I suppose so," Tom replied.

Tom followed Finn through the winding back-streets to their destination. Even if Tom was the one helping with Finn's geography homework, Finn was the one who had real understanding of the geography of this place. Granted, he had only been here a day and a half, but wandering with him made him feel lost. The two of them certainly stood out in their dark carmine uniforms with golden patternry, and they found themselves subject to the onlooking gaze of many local residents. They walked into the Korean Restaurant. Tom thought this might be a good place to bookmark mentally, but then realised that he would probably forget how he even got to this place anyway. The two of them headed toward the register, and the cashier greeted them politely.

"What would you like today?" She asked.

"I'll grab two Kimchi Pork Stews," Finn said.

"Actually, I'd rather Tofu," Tom interjected.

"Wait, you're a veggo?" Finn asked.

"Yeah, you would be too if you'd lived on a farm," Tom replied.

"Huh, alright," Finn said. "One Kimchi Tofu instead then, I suppose."

"Coming right up," she replied.

The two of them sat down at a table near the window. Finn stared out into the clouds, sighed, then returned his gaze back to Tom. Tom supposed he was uneasy about something, but it was anyone's guess as to what. After all, he probably wouldn't tell him what was on his mind anyway, so he didn't pry.

"So, I presume you have been boarding for a while," Tom asked. "What's it like?"

"Eh, it's pretty nice," Finn said. "You get to hang around cool people, and after a while you get into the spirit of the place real well. There's a few kids I don't like in the dorm, but we all get along well enough inside."

"A few kids?" Tom asked.

"Actually, just one," Finn replied. "He goes by the name of Dennis. You two will probably meet at some point. He's got some serious issues with his temper, but the fucker's dad is the head of a multi-national with the school in his pocket. He's untouchable. Dude's got everyone at his heel, and it ticks me off."

"Did he do something to you?" Tom inquired.

"Yeah, once. It wasn't to me though," Finn replied. "Anyway, don't let that ruin the dorm for ya'; I'm sure it'll be plenty of fun anyway."

The two of them bit and slurped their way through the Kimchi Stew. Tom was not exactly the best with etiquette, and so his slurping was rather loud and humiliating, attracting attention from miles around. He was apathetic about that though.

"So, how long have you been living in the dorm then?" Tom asked.

"Oh, it must be about two years now," Finn replied.

"Two years?" Tom inquired.

"Yeah. I bet you're fishing for some prophetic words of wisdom from the guy with a few years under his belt," Finn said. "To that, I suppose there's not much I can say. Just do what you enjoy here, there's a club for everything after all."

"I suppose I'll take a look into it," Tom said.

"Yeah, give it a crack," Finn said. "There's a pamphlet near the school office with all the clubs and teams listed. I'm in the Soccer team myself, but I'm not all that good at it."

They finished their meals, and headed back to the dorms. It was nearing evening, and the sun began to set in the distance. The sunset seemed luminescent off in the distance, as the dusking horizon cast its last warm light across the land. They hadn't much time to get back to the boarding house; they had spent a long time getting food. As they followed winding roads, Tom began to get a slight bearing of some locations, and some remote understanding on how to reach them. By the time they had reached the boarding house, the sun's light had all but disappeared beyond the edge of the sky, and the last glimmers cast were all that guided them to their newfound home. They entered. A friendly man greeted them at the door. He had grey hair, and had a youthful appearance which seemed to be slowly disappearing with age. He appeared as if he was constantly contemplating something, but whatever it was, Tom was not quite aware of.

"Hey Finn," he said. "I see you've brought the new kid along with you as well then?"

"Yeah," Finn said. "We went to that korean joint down the road. I was just showing him the ropes a bit."

"Nah, don't sweat it," the man replied. "We're already done with dinner here, but I might be able to whip something up if you're still peckish."

"Sweet, I could totally go for another round," Finn responded. "Bring it on!"

Finn strolled off into the kitchen. Tom remained at the door, shaking his head in refusal. "I hate to deny your hospitality, but I think I'm full," Tom said. The gentleman only laughed in response.

"I figured, anybody who could keep pace with his eating and metabolism would probably need Bariatric Surgery by the end of it," the man replied. "By the way, I'm Mr. Haynes. I'm the dormitory supervisor and an English teacher here. Nice to meet you." He extended his hand, gesturing for a handshake. Tom reciprocated after a moment of apprehension, created partially due to the spontaneity of the situation.

"Nice to meet you to," Tom responded. "So, is there anything I should remember while I'm staying here?"

"I suppose just the basics really," Mr. Haynes replied, "Don't stay out too late. Although I won't deride you if you do, you're going to need to earn the privilege to hang out at night through showing your diligence. Also, if I catch you trying to sneak away to the girl's dorms, I'll make you regret it. Other than that, make your time here count, and try and be friendly with everyone. Those are the main points for now. I think I'd better head into the kitchen though, I did promise Finn seconds after all."

"Go ahead," said Tom.

"Well, your room's on the third floor, number five," Mr. Haynes said. Tom placed his foot on the stairs, but before he could ascend any significant distance, Mr. Haynes called out to him.

"Oh, one more thing," Mr. Haynes said. "Whatever you do, don't screw up which floor you're on. The dude in two-five has some serious people issues."

"I'll keep that in mind," Tom replied.

He walked up to his room, and settled in. The room was dreary and austere, with a writing desk to one side of the room and a set of bunk beds to the other. The bunk beds were poorly constructed, made with a variety of aluminium which seemed more prone to snapping than supporting. A single filament bulb was tasked with illuminating the entirety of the room, and so the room seemed rather depressing and somewhat gloomy. The desk itself was made of a cheap timber, and seemed itself to be splinter-laden. It would be difficult working on the desk, for any sudden hand movement would likely cause the splinters of wood to embed themselves within his palm. He decided that getting a cover for the desk would be an utmost priority.

A bay window overlooked the beachside. It was a view one could only imagine in a fairy-tale, staring out onto the midnight beach as he watched the swash continually colliding with the shore, only to recede and try again. It was hypnotic, the constant motion of the waves and the ripples of the water, a cathartic dance of nature which seemed eternally repetitious. He could see students on the shore, likely avoiding the prying eyes of teachers and guardians for that late-night swim. It was dangerous, but who was he to intrude on that?

He decided to get some shut-eye. The bottom bunk seemed already to be in use, so he climbed to the top bunk and headed to bed. He closed his eyes. As he did, he heard the door open. Finn intruded on the room. "I didn't wake you, did I?" He asked rhetorically. He turned out the light, and headed to the bottom bunk, stumbling about in the dark. He heard a crash, and Finn exclaiming the word 'ouch' in a suppressed but nonetheless noticeable manner. He made his way to bed.

"Goodnight," Finn said.

"Night," Tom replied. He drifted off, the lethargy fostered by a tiring day taking over both his wearied mind and fatigued frame. He succumbed to sleep, allowing his consciousness to dissipate into some aether elsewhere.

* * *

Social Stats - Tom Drover

Etiquette: Guttersnipe (1)  
Intellect: Knowledgeable (2)  
Guts: Yellow-Bellied (1)  
Charisma: Unnoticeable (1)  
Wisdom: Foolhardy (1)

Forecast for Tomorrow: Clear Skies

 _ **Note:** The Cup Arcana represents the Clergy. The Clergy, operating as a bastion of enlightenment in the pre-renaissance era, serves characters with increased intelligence. As such, the Fool of Cups finds himself advantaged in this area. _

* * *

**Monday, 22nd-23rd of January  
** **Dreamscape, Clear Skies**

Tom awoke. Tom lifted his head from the pillow, and stared out the window. Though he felt well rested, as if he had slept for ten years rather than ten hours, the sky seemed dark outside. However, it was not the same mere absence of light that constituted the night that he remembered. Instead, it was as if the light of the waking world had been suppressed somehow, sealed away by some ethereal force. He turned on a bedside lamp, and looked out the window. Amidst the eerily mandarin-tinted darkness, he swore he could see movement. It was not human, more an entity which seemed to hover directly above the ground. He could make out what appeared to be a yellow lamplight, and a pumpkin with a pointed hat, floating in midair. Believing that he was going insane, he wandered over to Finn's bed and jostled him awake.

"Yo, what is it?" Finn asked. "I'm trying to get to sleep here."

However, as Finn stood up, he seemed aware as ever; as if he had never really slept in the first place. "Funny, I thought I went to sleep?" He said to himself. "I feel well rested, but it's still night. This is weird..."

"Could you please look out that window," Tom asked. "I need to know what you see."

"Alright," Finn replied.

He wandered to the window, and stared out into the tangerine tenebrosity. He looked for a few seconds, before noticing something and fixating on it for a while. He stood there for approximately three seconds, before recoiling from the window in fear.

"What was that thing?" Finn asked. "Why was it staring at me, why did it have no legs, why did it have a pumpkin for a head, why..."

The remainder of his spiel was incoherent garble as he fumbled with language out of sheer distress. Tom helped him to his feet, as he stared at the window.

"...Why was it looking at me?" Finn concluded.

"I'd like to know as well," Tom said.

Finn took a moment to regain his bearings. He deliberated for a moment, as his rational mind was no longer encumbered by the surprise. "Let's find out," Finn said.

Finn took his phone from his pocket. He opened it, checked the charge percentage, and returned it to his pocket. He should have enough juice to do a little digging. He sauntered over to the door, and readied himself for the world beyond it.


	4. Awakening - 3

**Monday, 22nd-23rd of January  
Dreamscape, Clear Skies**

They readied themselves for the world yonder. Finn put on a pair of somewhat worn grey tracksuit pants and a blank hoodie, as well as a pair of grey sneakers. Tom pulled a blue casual shirt over his head, and clothed himself with an old yet reliable pair of brown chino pants and a pair of battered loafers. As he changed, Tom stared at himself for a moment in the reflection cast by the window. It was the same face he was used to, tired green eyes adorned with black bags and rugged blonde hair which seemed to adhere to no stylist bar the nightly motions of his head on the pillow. He retained that farm-boy appearance; not the devilishly handsome variety, but rather the raggedy and dilapidated visage of a boy worked to the bone. However, his face wasn't something entirely deserving of admonishment: it had its own beauty to it.

"Stop checking yourself out in the window and let's get going," Finn said.

Tom turned around and nodded. The two of them entered the passageway, descending the staircase and heading down to the second floor. They intended to descend further, but were distracted by the door to room five on the floor below them. A disturbingly large cast-iron door stood in the place of the simple wooden door that was there prior. It seemed to require some sort of key to open, as was indicated by the enormous and impractically large lock that adorned the right side of the door. After fiddling with it for a while to no avail, they decided to head onwards.

They reached the beachside. To their left was a dock with a moored boat, the vessel drifting on the surface listlessly as it waited for an occupant. On the right was the object of their interest: the mysterious floating pumpkin and lamp. On closer inspection, the pumpkin seemed to have a face etched into it. As they walked closer, Tom thought it was a Jack O'Lantern. This notion was obviously dispelled when they noticed the pumpkin's bright and vibrant crimson eyes, burning with what seemed to be the same fire as the lamp. As they approached, it turned to face them.

"It's looking at us," Finn said.

"Let's stay calm and not jump to conclusions," Tom replied.

The pumpkin released a torrent of flame from the lantern, targeting Tom. He sidestepped, carefully dodging the tendril of fire and sprinting across the sand away from the pumpkin-headed fiend.

"So much for not jumping to conclusions!" Finn yelled as he ran alongside Tom.

"It sounded good in theory, cut me some slack!" Tom replied.

The pair of them ran to the dock. Tom attempted to kickstart the engine as Finn handled the rope, both to no avail. The motor had likely been dead for some time, and the rope was far too waterlogged for Finn to make any headway. Instead, the pumpkin headed fiend caught up to them. A metallic storage container sat at the rear of the boat, and Tom attempted to find anything which could help them fend off the unknown entity. It was mainly basic marine survival equipment, the only object of use being a small handheld flare-gun and five very flares. He fired one into the pumpkin head of the beast, which then ricocheted and landed in the water. It was to no avail. The pumpkin-headed fiend was enraged, and showed no signs of stopping its advance. It knocked Tom aside, swinging its lantern and sending him sprawling to the ground. It stared down at Finn, eyes bright and aflame, as it prepared to unleash a torrent of flame. The world halted for a second. The pumpkin-headed fiend remained at bay, as Finn wore an expression laced with terror, staring up at impending doom. However, all stood still; all except Tom. He got to his feet, and heard a voice from within his mind.

 _Do you wish to save him?_

Tom stared up at the pumpkin-headed creature. It was menacing, capable of arcane feats beyond his comprehension. It's mere existence was inexplicable, let alone the tremendous power it possessed. He wanted to save him; but he did not know if he could.

"I can't," Tom said. "I lack the strength."

The voice in his mind returned once more, with an unwavering bravado.

 _Balderdash. Thou may lack the strength in body, but thou hast the strength of heart to accomplish feats well beyond one's own mortal limits. After travelling so far, is this where your plight falters? Where you lay to rest?_

"Perhaps," Tom said.

 _So, shall you grovel at its heel as well?_

"How dare you," Tom exclaimed. "You know nothing of my past!"

 _But I do, for I art thou, and thou art I. I shall lend you my power in the appellation of righteousness, to save this newfound friend. That is, should a singular condition be met._

"What do you want?" Tom asked, a single tear streaking down his face as he realised the hopelessness of his situation. He watched on; caught in a moment, as he awaited the untimely demise of his friend.

 _Stand down for no man. Thou art a knight of justice, unable to keel. Vanquish this fiend; it may best your body, but no entity can prevail over your heart. The heart of the truly dedicated can prevail over even the most unassailable foes; the David shall always be capable of vanquishing the Goliath. I am thou, thou art I. Conquer your own heart, and ye shall conquer the world._

He felt a new vigour emerge from within himself, and a talisman materialised around his neck. The progression of seconds was restored, the cheeks of Finn's face contorting from horror to despair as he realised the inevitability of his fate. Yet, this situation was no longer irreparable. Tom tore the talisman from his neck. It was a gold amulet, with a design of a knapsack and a jester's hat, with a single sapphire crystal adorning the top of the rim. This was not its true form though. He lobbed it into the air.

"Persona!" He screamed. "Come forth, Galahad!"

Blue light emanated from the amulet. It began to change shape, bringing forth the entity within. Donning radiant plated armour, the imposing figure above him was colossal in size, its scintillating golden platemail acting as a beacon of hope for all amidst the darkness. It brandished a chalice in its right hand. With it, it struck the lantern of the pumpkin-headed beast, sending both it and its lantern toward the murky depths.

"W-w-what the fuck is that?" Finn uttered in fear as he stared up at the figure of Galahad in the sky.

"Don't worry, he's on our side," Tom said. Tom extended his hand to Finn, and helped him to his feet.

"We have to get out of here," Finn said. "This place is not our beach."

"I agree," Tom replied. "But how?"

"Let's go back to the boarding house," Finn replied. "That's how this all started, right?"

"Alright," Tom said. "That sounds like a good plan."

Tom pocketed the flare gun and the four very flares he had collected earlier, and the two of them headed back towards the dormitories. Galahad dematerialised, the amulet reappearing around Tom's neck as he did. As they ran along the dock, Finn noticed an old fisherman's harpoon, and grabbed it. Clutching it tightly out of fear, the pair of them ran at what seemed almost mach-3 speed back to their dorms. They arrived. The television was turned on in the living room to the left, playing a broadcast of an unknown man. A young grey-haired man sat watching the broadcast, serenely engaged in the television world.

"Oh, how thankful I am to see a human here," Finn said. "Evening, Mr. Haynes."

"Good evening," the grey haired man said. He turned around. He was virtually indistinguishable from the real Haynes, save for the fact that his eyes blazed with a paranormal amber light. It was clear that he was not Mr. Haynes, but the question as to what he was and where the real Haynes was seemed unanswerable.

"W-who are you?" Finn asked, his lips quivering. "W-what have you done with Mr. Haynes?"

"I've done nothing with him, but oh the things he's done to me," Mr. Haynes replied. "I'm his heart, and he's torn at me unendingly. He's broken me, tried to piece me back together, and done so again and again. It's perpetual you know."

"What are you talking about?" Tom interjected, standing before Finn.

"You wouldn't know, study-nut," Mr. Haynes replied. "All my life, I just wanted someone to care, and here I am. I'm on death's door, and still nobody even notices. It doesn't matter; I'll make them notice. I'll possess myself, and confess for myself. If they can't accept me - then they'd better accept my suicide."

"Don't do that," Finn said.

"Or what?" Mr. Haynes retorted. "Is the Prince of Cowardice going to sweep me off my feet? No, I'm no good, not even to you. The only place for me is six feet under."

"We won't let you go," Finn said.

"It's my life!" Mr. Haynes shouted. "If I want to snuff it out, who're you to stop me?"

"We're friends who know the real Mr. Haynes," Finn said. "He'd never give up so easily and call it a day, it's not in his nature."

"Oh, you don't believe I'm him then?" Mr. Haynes said, snarling primally as he spoke. "I suppose I'll be someone else to you people, who refuse to see me as I truly am. I'll change - I'll be your worst bloody nightmare."

Mr. Haynes morphed before their very eyes, transforming into something not entirely human, but still somewhat humanoid. The two of them bolted for the door, and as they escaped, Haynes became able to grow to his true size. Obstructing the ability to return to their room, he was now a massive entity, which barred them entry to their salvation.

He was colossal in size. Wearing a rag scarf as a tie and a long overcoat, atop his head was a tall Paris Beau style hat which seemed capable of piercing the sky above them. However, he was most definitely no longer human. His skin had turned completely crimson, and his face was streaked in blood, which ebbed from gashes across his face. His fingernails had grown, and held beneath them was what seemed to be tonnes of dirt and grime. He wore no shoes, and his feet bore the consequences of such.

"This is what he has created of me!" Mr. Haynes replied. "I just want an end to it all, I want to burn like the demon I am!"

He unleashed a torrent of flame, similar to that of the pumpkin. As the flames barreled towards them, Tom threw his amulet towards them. "Persona!" He called. Galahad re-emerged from the talisman, blocking the flames with its body. Tom clutched his chest in pain as the blow collided with Galahad, visibly affected by the immense monster's attacks despite them hitting Galahad.

"Are you okay?" Finn asked.

"Not really," Tom replied. "We'll get through it though."

Tom stared up at the colossal figure of Galahad. "Smite him!" He called. A radiant light shone from the cup, and Galahad pointed the chalice toward the creature. A trio of white knives descended on the target. It was visibly stunned and somewhat damaged by the blow, but remained standing. It would not be enough to fell the monster, and was scarcely enough to make an impact.

"We need a new strategy," Tom said.

"No shit," Finn replied. "Got any ideas?"

"If I can distract it with the flare gun, you might be able to get a chance to land that harpoon in its leg," Tom said. "If so, we could offset its balance, allowing us to get inside the dormitories."

"That's ambitious," Finn said. "Look at the size of the damn thing. If it doesn't fall, we're done for."

"I trust you," Tom replied.

"Damn it," Finn muttered under his breath. Tom loaded the flare gun, and steadied his hand. The monster unleashed another pillar of flame. It spiralled towards Finn, except a skillful evasion prevented him from sustaining any significant injuries. Tom sent the flare flying towards the beast. It hit directly in the face, and the beast was staggered - if only for a moment. Finn charged, using the opportunity to land the harpoon firmly in its leg. The beast failed to stand, but did not fall. It stared down at Finn. It swiped at him, sending him flying across the room. He landed, sprawled on the dirt. Forced to watch on from afar, he witnessed the relentless and infernal barrage raining down upon Galahad, and Tom by extension. The world froze once more. A voice called out to Finn from the back of his mind.

 _You just going to sit there, wallowing in your own misery?_

"That's the plan, yeah," he replied. He stood up from the ground, his body in agony as the injuries sustained from being flung across the field began to catch up with him. The act of merely maintaining his balance was nigh excruciating, and the temptation to merely slump back down and play dead was almost unassuageable.

 _You of all people knew that you were always god-awful at planning. How about you stand up and do something for yourself?_

"I can't," he replied. "Not against Dennis, not against the Pumpkin, not against whatever the hell that is."

 _You are a noble individual at heart. Don't you dare call it quits now, and just leave him to die. Where's the justice in that?_

"What's justice anyway if I can't do jack?" He asked. "It's just a delusion, to make people feel capable."

 _You fight, even if you can't win, and curse those who dare to stand against you. Justice is not just a cause, it's who you are. Once you realise that, Dennis and the pumpkin are just the beginning._

"I'm nothing damn it!" He exclaimed. "All my life, I was the kid who was shunted to a corner. Justice? That's just some petty excuse I told myself to avoid the truth - I'm a god-awful mess. There's no justice in running away from your problems, in letting people walk all over you and sucking your thumb in the fucking corner as you quietly think about everything wrong with the world while you practically epitomise it yourself. I can't do anything, so why try?"

 _You're short on influence, you don't have authority like others, but you have something far stronger. You've got resolve. That pluck of yours could take you to the moon and back._ _Thou art a warrior, a man born from fury with the tenacity to change the world. You may spew up your insides, you may spit out your teeth, and you may snap your bones. That monster can bloody your body up real bad, but it can't lay a scratch on your spirit._ _I am thou, thou art I. Let's turn this world on its head; such is the nature of life._

Arisen from the dirt, Finn stood despite his prior squalor. A bravado surfacing from within, which had always lay dormant, welled up within. A pendant materialised around the scruff of his neck. The sinews and tendons in his arm tightened as he tore the pendant from him, tossing it towards the monster.

"Persona!" Finn called, "Tear him up, Ned Kelly!"

As it flew through the air, the pendant transmogrified in a flash of blue. A figure in rusted plate armour emerged, wearing long pants and an overcoat, with a maroon cylinder with an eye slit serving as a helmet. He brandished a revolving rifle, and stood valiantly before Finn. The monster turned around. A foray of flame charged towards Kelly. It collided with him - to little effect.

"Takes a little more than that to beat us down!" Finn screamed, as he clutched his chest. "Eiha!"

Kelly held his rifle in his left hand, and extended his right towards the monster. A crimson and charcoal aura descended upon the monster, visibly injuring it. Tom watched on, and smirked a little. "Dia!" He called, beckoning Galahad to heed his call and reinvigorate Finn. The monster attacked once more, but Finn swiftly sidestepped the swipes of the monster as he charged forth.

"Let's forge our own path," Finn called. "Steadied Shot!"

Kelly aimed his rifle at the beast, and sent forth a shell of titanic proportions. The beast did not stand a chance. As the shot impacted the beast, it was forced back, knocking it squarely into the building. As it lost its will to fight, it knelt before them, surrendering itself as its form faded away. It was replaced now with the yellow-eyed Mr. Haynes that had started it all. Finn's harpoon clattered upon the ground. Finn grabbed it, and stood over the yellow-eyed Mr. Haynes. Tom joined him, and together they stood, triumphant in victory.

"What is it you want from me?" Mr. Haynes asked. "Do you want to go out until three? Do you want a mini-bar in your room? I'll give you anything, just please don't kill me."

"Kill you? Who said anything about that," Finn said. "You tried to kill us first. Besides, we aren't those types of individuals."

"You said that nobody cared?" Tom added. "If you really want to do something for us, then open up to us. We want to help."

"Help?" Mr. Haynes questioned them. "How could you help me?"

"Never underestimate a wily student," Finn said. "The Prince of Cowardice has you covered."

"Study-nut also has your back," Tom added. "Reach out to us."

"Thanks," Mr. Haynes said. "Huh, I feel... free."

"Not a problem," replied Tom.

The two of them wandered back inside, leaving Mr. Haynes on the porch. Tom looked back for a moment. As Mr. Haynes breathed, he released an exhale of relief: as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Mr. Haynes looked back at Tom, and waved. Unencumbered, his body began to dissipate, fading into a bluish fog which in turn floated away with the wind. By the time they had begun climbing the steps, he had disappeared entirely; absolved of his grievances.


	5. Tethers of Fate - 4

**Tuesday, 23rd of January  
Clear Skies**

Tom awoke the next morning with full recollection of the mysterious reality. Though it appeared to be a dream, it was awfully vivid, and he had felt compos mentis the whole time; about as vivid as the Velvet Classroom dream. He sat up. Finn was still snoring to himself on the bottom bunk. He dismissed the dream, deciding that dwelling on the little words in your head was how you ended up in an institution. Instead, he opened the door, and headed to the kitchenette of the dormitories.

Mr. Haynes was preoccupied with making pancakes, and expertly managed a skillet as he prepared a series of perfectly proportioned fluffy-golden pancakes. They were not the sort you expected from a cook with his appearance, more akin to those that would be presented by a restaurateur than a dormitory supervisor. Mr. Haynes noticed him, and smiled. "Morning," he said. "It figures you'd be the first person awake."

"Why do you say that?" Tom asked.

"City kids sleep in like nothing on earth," Mr. Haynes replied.

Tom chuckled a tad. Mr. Haynes served up a plate of two pancakes, and placed it before him. Tom sat at the flimsy gateleg table, careful to ensure that it did not accidentally fall apart as he sat at it.

"So, can I expect this every morning?" Tom asked.

Mr. Haynes laughed a little. "Probably not," Mr. Haynes said. "I find cooking cathartic. I mainly do it when I've got a lot on my mind, today being one of those days..." He trailed off for a second. Perhaps he did not intend to continue, but some machinations within his mind forced him to continue speaking. "...I've been going through a rough patch for the past couple of months," he continued. "A rocky divorce, you could say. There's a reason I'm in the student dorms, and it's not because I like being here. Don't get me wrong, you guys are fun, but this was never where I intended to be. I suppose I've been grappling with some real dark thoughts about it as of late, but... I feel as if the burden has been lifted or something. I don't know how to explain it, other than feeling relieved, and getting this strange sensation that I should trust you. Can I trust you, new kid?"

"Of course," replied Tom. "If ever you need to talk to somebody, you can talk to me."

"Thanks," Mr. Haynes said. "I figured you'd be the compassionate sort beneath that stoic exterior. You can come to me if you need anything as well."

* * *

Thou art I, I art Thou...

Thou hast been tethered to the fate of another...  
Through endless persistence in the defense of others...  
Thou has discovered a new sister or brother...

It seems a more favourable destiny bodes...  
The Magician Arcana hath now been bestowed...  
Thou shalt bear new power when walking this road...

Magician Tether: Mr. Haynes  
Sub-Arcana: Six of Cups

Rank 1 - No Special Abilities

 _The Dormitory Supervisor and an English Teacher at Abanoub College, Mr. Haynes is facing a divorce with his ex-wife, and is having a rough time dealing with the emotional consequences of the matter. After Tom defeated the darkness in his heart, he began to open up to him..._

* * *

Tom continued chewing away at his pancake. He pondered for a moment. Perhaps something really had happened in that dream; though he thought it fake, there had most definitely been real world ramifications from telling that yellow-eyed Haynes to open up to him. He sighed.

"Mr. Haynes, did you dream last night?" Tom said. He left out the 'did you dream that you were a scary demonic colossus' part, for fear that it might upset him slightly.

"A little, but I don't remember much of it," Mr. Haynes replied. "I remember two figures on the porch out there, but I don't remember who they were or what they said. Why, you into that Freudian bullshit or something?"

"Not really," Tom replied. "Just curious."

Tom continued to gnaw away at the pancakes. He had rarely had pancakes before, and so they tasted divine to him even as they devolved into a pasty and soggy mess of maple syrup and solidified batter. The others slowly descended into the kitchen, each of them wearing a wearied face characteristic of the recently awoken. Groggy and not entirely compos mentis, they operated on instinct, taking a serving of pancakes with little regard to their surrounds and drizzling it with maple syrup. Finn wandered down the stairs, following them. Though he was not as languid in appearance as the other residents, he still was not quite radiating an aura of exuberance. Not that he expected him to, after all. Even Tom, early as he usually rose, awoke somewhat sluggish. However, he had to admit that the lethargy that emanated from everyone within the dormitories was almost infectious, and even he felt somewhat fatigued by merely watching them. Finn sat next to him.

"Ugh, I had the worst dream last night," Finn complained.

"Did it have something to do with Personas and a monstrous Mr. Haynes?" Tom whispered to Finn.

"Yeah..." Finn said, before realising the obvious impossibility of the situation. "Wait, did we have the same dream? Did you fight off a pumpkin-headed..."

"...lamp-wielding maniac? Yeah, I did," Tom interrupted, concluding Finn's sentence for him. "I'm starting to think that might not be entirely a dream."

"What do you mean, not entirely a dream?" Finn said, the pair of them now whispering like two gossiping girls at a slumber party.

"Well, Mr. Haynes seems to have some limited recollection of us standing over him on the porch," Tom said. "I think we might have actually done something by defeating that thing that came out of him."

"What do you mean, done something?" Finn asked.

"Yellow Haynes said that he wanted to kill himself for some reason and end it all," Tom said. "Well, I think I found a motive."

"Huh? What motive?" Finn asked.

"His wife is filing for divorce," Tom said. "It seemed like he was going through a bit of a rough patch."

"How do you know about all of this?" Finn asked.

"He told me this morning," Tom replied.

"So, that means that the weird dream we had last night was actually capable of helping his mental health," Finn postulated.

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Tom said. "There is no reason to feel that the two matters are connected yet, but I would like to brush up on what we know of the dream thing. If it is linked to a sudden shift in his mental state, then we might be able to help similarly tormented individuals."

"So, we might become superheroes?" Finn asked. "Oh man, that sounds like a sick gig."

"Don't jump the gun," Tom replied. "There's still a lot we don't know. If we act without forethought, we could end up getting in trouble. Worse yet, we could end up in the psychiatric ward. We have to do proper research, stake the place out, and know what we are doing first."

"Seriously?" Finn queried. "There are people in need, and we're just going to sit here twiddling our thumbs going over facts?"

"Yes, otherwise we'll end up doing something regrettable," Tom said. "Let's just sit tight, wait until after school, and go over what we know. Then we can make a game plan for if it happens again."

Finn sighed. He could not argue with his logic. If this otherworldly realm truly was linked somehow with a person's state of mind, then acting spontaneously might only result in greater casualty. While he wanted to help people, he could not deny that. The truth of the matter was that they had no idea what their actions might do, or whether the would even return to that dreamy world. It was for the best.

"Alright," Finn said. "We're doing this."

"Yeah, but let's just find out what it is exactly that we're 'doing' first." Tom added.

The two of them left the dormitories, Finn smirking to himself as he followed alongside Tom. A young boy stared at them, wearing a pair of glasses and a snooty expression with which he looked down upon the world. He watched on with both contempt and envy, yet neither of the two were particularly prominent upon his face.

"I wonder what those two are so chipper about?" He muttered to himself as they wandered off.

* * *

The school day passed effortlessly for Tom. As an attentive student who seemed to hang on to each and every word of the teacher's, there was very little that he could not answer. Those limited things of course could be rectified with further study, but nonetheless he felt as if he had grown slightly more intelligent as the day drew on due to a consolidation of understanding. Finn was far from the worst student in the class, but he was certainly no scholar either. Tom had the slightest feeling that there was something that he was forgetting, and as the day drew to a close, he remembered.

"Wait, didn't you have homework for geography, Finn? He asked.

"Oh shit, you forgot to do it, that's right," Finn replied. "Crap, now I'm in for it..."

"I forgot to do it?" Tom said, puzzled.

"Don't worry, I'm just messing with ya'," Finn said. "Although now I really am stuffed..."

"Do you have to do it?" Tom asked.

"Take it from me when I say that this school is bonkers about coursework," Finn replied. "If I miss two or more, they're probably going to sit me in a detention."

"Well, at least you get a break to do the homework I suppose," Tom said.

"Nah, I usually nap," Finn replied. "Teacher's don't give a shit."

The two walked and talked, and began to wander on impulse without watching where they were going. As they wandered, their paths collided with another student, who attempted to steamroll through them in a hurried jog. Tom, taking stock of his surroundings, skillfully dodged the oncoming student. However, Finn was not so lucky. He fell to the ground, a bundle of paperwork splaying across the floor. The brunette haired individual responsible was imposing, even in the rather comical looking school uniform. Tom felt it wise to ignore the individual. Yet on the flipside, it would certainly be gutsy to give him a piece of his mind. He made up his mind.

"Oi, what was that for?" Tom said, sounding disgruntled as he reverted to country vernacular and accent. The brunette haired individual approached him. A scar across his left eyebrow was now visible, his wounds somehow acting as a testament to his might. "You know who I am kiddo?" He asked rhetorically. "I ain't got time for your crap. Piss off."

The brunette haired individual wandered off. Tom, not pressing any further, decided to leave him be. He helped Finn from the floor, and collected the papers that were now strewn across the halls.

"Thanks," Finn said. "I really appreciate you sticking up for me back there."

"Who was that?" Tom asked.

"You remember that Dennis fellow I mentioned before? That's him," Finn replied. "I don't get it that bad from him, but he really makes some other kid's lives hell around here."

"I've been bullied before, I know the feeling," Tom said.

"Yeah, it's sad. He bullies a lot of kids around the school, not just me," Finn said. "He never used to have a problem with me, either. I suppose it all started with my previous roommate, not that I blame him or hold it against him, and in actual fact I think it was a good thing that Dennis and I stopped seeing eye-to-eye."

"Stopped?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, I used to be on his side I suppose," Finn said. "I was more of a bystander than a participant, willingly averting my eyes when push came to shove. However, I moved to the student dorms, as you know. People change, and people change people. I suppose I became a better person, even if I did end up taking my roommate's place. I wanted to stick up for my friend, and at the end of the day, it did nothing."

"It did nothing?" Tom said, puzzled.

"Mhmm," Finn replied. "What I didn't know at the time was that Dennis' father was on the board of directors here at school. The parents didn't know, because his dad ensured those kids kept their mouths shut for fear of expulsion. It's twisted. That's why they all hate this place. I don't get it as bad as the other kids, but I want to make sure that nobody gets such foul treatment some day."

Finn sighed to himself, at ease somewhat. He continued. "You know, it felt relieving saying that. We all have our troubles at this school, but with such apathetic counsellors, it gets pretty hard to air them," Finn said. "It's nice that I got to talk to you though; I feel as if I was able to get a lot off my chest. I think we're going to get along just fine."

* * *

Thou art I, I art Thou...

Thou hast been tethered to the fate of another...  
Through endless persistence in the defense of others...  
Thou has discovered a new sister or brother...

It seems a more favourable destiny bodes...  
The Justice Arcana hath now been bestowed...  
Thou shalt bear new power when walking this road...

Justice Tether: Finn Teague  
Sub-Arcana: Eight of Pentacles

Rank 1 - Collaborate  
Can now receive Tactical Directives in Battle!

 _Your roommate and friend at Abanoub College, Finn is the victim of relentless bullying perpetrated a kid named Dennis who seems to have caused trouble for a large portion of the school community. After Tom met Dennis, Finn decided to come clean with him about it..._

* * *

Tom nodded. Finn grabbed the last piece of paper from the floor, and stood tall. Even still, Tom could note an underlying sense of despair beneath that otherwise enthusiastic expression. He was not a particularly strong-willed individual, nor was he assertive, but he was at the very least a person who stayed true to principle. Even if he lacked the fortitude to face his enemy, he still had the constitution to recognise them. "Well, I'm going to head back to the dorms," Finn said. "Let me know if you want to hang out later." Finn headed off. Tom was left alone in the hallway, and decided now would be a good time to get his bearings around the school.


End file.
